


The Doctor and the Detective

by Zanate56



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanate56/pseuds/Zanate56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random series of one-shots of 221 words each, based on a long-ago 221B drabble challenge. Book-verse and non-slash. Ratings may change depending on future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Healer

**Author's Note:**

> The Sherlock Holmes fandom was the very first fandom that I started reading fanfics in many years ago, and it is only now that I feel comfortable enough to contribute to a fandom that has seen so many interpretations, and to be frank so many brilliant interpretations of the Canon among fanfic writers. I was wary of posting this as there are so many amazing SH authors out there, and this was written based on a 221B challenge, the origin of which I can't remember. So here's my humble submission to the amazing fandom of Canon Sherlock Holmes, based on 221 words. I hope everyone who reads this enjoys this humble drabble of mine.

He had once remarked that when a doctor goes wrong he is the worst of villains. In Holmes' experience he had never had cause to re-evaluate his opinion, except for one individual. The detective hated how his friendship with Watson had cost his friend so much over the years, including the regard and trust of his fellow medical colleagues. Watson's penchant for treating the poorest of the poor in even Whitechapel had kept Watson out of the most respective medical circles in London.

"Do not let it distress you, old fellow," Watson said to Holmes with his characteristic patience when Holmes had expressed his discontent to Watson.

When Holmes had pressed his friend for an explanation Watson had simply smiled and shook his head.

"Because, Holmes," Watson said with his characteristic patience, "I gave an oath to preserve life. Life _is_ sacred, no matter the person's status or vocation in this life." Watson paused for a moment, and Holmes watched as a shaft of late afternoon summer sun caught his friend's care-worn features, illuminating the kind brown eyes and turning Watson's auburn hair to the hue of brilliant copper.

"And besides," Watson had added with a grin as he looked fondly at his dearest friend in the world. "I do enjoy giving those insufferable pseudo doctors a run for their money."


	2. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on my own theories about why Holmes didn't tell Watson that he was still alive during the Hiatus, as well as how I view Canon Holmes and Mycroft's relationship. I might write a longer stand-alone fic about the Hiatus and how Holmes and Watson dealt with the fallout, but for now this will have to do.

Mycroft Holmes looked up from his papers when the door to his private quarters was suddenly flung open. He watched as his younger brother stormed into the room, his thin face white with fury.

"Damn you, Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth. "You had no right."

"Profanity does not suit you, Sherlock," said Mycroft calmly, having already discerned the reason's for his brother's stormy entrance.

"Do not lecture me, brother, for I am not in any mood to bear it," said Sherlock, slamming his hands down on the desk and leaning close towards Mycroft.

"What do you want from me, Sherlock? Do you wish an apology for not informing you of Mrs. Watson's death?"

"You had no right to keep that information from me – _none._ "

"I had every right, you insufferable fool, especially since you already made the choice yourself!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You decided to play God when you started this charade, and now when faced with the results of feigning your death you cannot bear the consequences."

His younger brother stared at him for a moment before turning away, his arms crossed over his chest as he gazed out the window.

"He will forgive you, you know," said Mycroft after a few moments of tense silence.

His young brother sighed and closed his eyes. "I know," said Sherlock.


	3. Bully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back everyone! So this idea suddenly hit me and even though it’s longer than 221 words I decided to post anyway; I hope you enjoy dear readers!

They both loathed bullies; that was one thing that had united Holmes and Watson during their first tentative days of acquaintance. It really should not have surprised him, mused Holmes. Watson had a fierce sense of loyalty and would never hesitate to help someone in need. For his part, Holmes detested the hypocrisy that he saw so often in society; it was one reason he had put off Mycroft’s numerous suggestions to join him in government service. Holmes knew he could not bear listening to politicians complain about the dredges of society when men like he and Watson tried every day to help those same people.

It really wasn’t surprising, then, that when a particularly foolish young constable struck one of the Irregulars for protesting against waiting out in the rain, knocking the child to the muddy ground, the constable immediately found himself flat on his back in the mud, the business end of an army-issued revolver pointed at him.

“Touch one of my Irregulars again,” said Holmes in a tone of deadly calm, “and I assure you that I will make certain that you never work in this city again.”

“Or what, you’ll have your lapdog shoot me, Holmes?” the man sneered around a bloodied lip where Watson’s knuckles had collided.

Watson’s face tightened in disgust before he lowered the revolver. “I wouldn’t waste a bullet on you, sir. Get up and get out of my sight,” the doctor snapped, suddenly the soldier he had once been only one year and a lifetime ago.

The constable took one look at the fierce expression on both men’s faces and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. He stumbled to his feet and stormed off down the street.

The boy, who had been hiding behind Holmes’ long legs during the altercation, grinned up at his employer.

“Thanks, Mr. ‘Olmes! And you to, Doctor!” said the child before scampering off into the night.

Lestrade, who had watched the entire scene unfold from the window of his office, shook his head. Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes of all people would be so protective of a street urchin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has always been my personal interpretation that Sherlock Holmes, at least in the Canon, is fond of, or at least tolerates better, children more than adults. After all, the Baker Street Irregulars certainly seem to idolize him in the books and I can’t imagine such street-smart kids giving their trust or loyalty easily to just anyone.


End file.
